diagnosis
by wild wolf free17
Summary: drabbles that mainly focus on Chase
1. my heart is torn just in knowing

**Title**: my heart is torn just in knowing

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Plumb

**Warnings**: takes place just after season two's "Forever"

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 100

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

After Mikey, Robert spends the night in the hospital chapel. He prays forgiveness, and he prays for understanding; neither comes to him, in those unending hours. At dawn, he is just as lost as he was at dusk.

_Our Father_, he whispers, _who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name_. He didn't pray after Dad-he hasn't prayed since he left the seminary. But now he kneels, begging God to explain why He took Mikey.

_Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us_, he continues, fingers clasped in memory of a rosary.

God does not answer.


	2. vigil

**Title**: vigil

**Disclaimer**: the doctors aren't mine

**Warnings**: none

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 200

**Point** **of** **view**: second

* * *

"I _am_ sorry," the pretty doctor says again. Her name's Callahan or Cameron, something like that. She looks like she's about to cry. "We've done everything we can."

The no-nonsense black doctor, Foreman, comes back. He's done most of the tests and explained everything. His face is sympathetic. "Is there anything we can do for you?" he asks.

You shrug. "Make him comfortable?" you ask. "Until the end?"

The pretty doctor nods. There are tears in her eyes. "We'll up the pain meds," she says. "He probably knows you're here, so if you sit by him, it might help."

You can do that. You pull up the uncomfortable chair and clasp his unresponsive hand in yours, and you almost pray. Almost. But there is no god listening, so what's the point?

Another doctor, this time the blond with an Australian accent, comes by. He stands on the other side of the bed and waits. You watch him and wait, too.

"Is there anythin' at all you haven't told us?" he asks softly. "Something that seems insignificant?"

The boss, Dr. House, has already grilled you. He reminded you of Dad. You shake your head.

"Alright then," the doctor says, and goes.


	3. August passes flowerless

**Title**: August passes flowerless, and the frosts come

**Fandom**: "House, MD"

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Denise Levertov.

**Warnings**: takes place sometime in the first three seasons

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 300

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

He can remember being young, watching Mum drink herself into stupors, and thinking, _Maybe she'll quit tomorrow_. He told himself that every night, his prayer to a god that never answered—tomorrow became today and Mum kept drinking, kept crying.

He can remember being slightly less young and thinking, _Maybe God will talk to me tomorrow. _He didn't really want to be a priest, to preach or counsel or lead a congregation—he just wanted to hear God's voice. To know God cared. To know God had a good reason for taking Mum before she healed. But tomorrow became today and he never heard any voice except his own, rosary beads twined around his fingers.

He can remember being less young still and thinking, _Maybe tomorrow someone will see me and not Dad._ But he was always Dr. Chase the Younger, not quite as good, not quite as brilliant. He was trading on his father's name, even though he didn't want to, and when tomorrow became today, he traveled across the world to escape it.

He can remember being barely twenty-five, in a new country, alone and confused, certain of only one thing: he was never good enough. "You're very young," Dr. Cuddy said, looking over his resume. "Why do you wanna work here?" He thought back to Mum and Dad and God, and answered as truthfully as he could.

He can remember being barely twenty-five and introduced to Dr. House, with the words, "Convince him and you're hired."

He can remember still being so young and waiting for House to tell him _good job_ or _well done_ or _I knew you weren't a complete idiot_. He told himself every night _Maybe tomorrow he'll say it. _

But tomorrow becomes today and nothing ever changes, just like all the todays before.


	4. loyalty

**Title**: loyalty

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun.

**Warnings**: spoilers for season three

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 100

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

_He punches me, I hug him, he fires me… what the fuck?_ Robert's thoughts go 'round and 'round and he can't find a logical reason. _I lasted the longest so I had to go? What the hell kind of sense does that make?_

Robert stares at the glass of gin and tonic, holding it up to catch the light. It glints and shines into his eyes; he looks away, blinking.

_I could go to Cuddy, _he thinks_. I could get him fired, thrown in jail, have his medical license revoked… I could ruin his life. _

He sighs. _But I won't_.


	5. I am looking always for the sea

**Title**: I am looking always for the sea

**Fandom**: "House, MD"

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from Denise Levertov.

**Warnings**: spoilers for up to season four

**Pairings**: canon

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 310

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

The last few months of Mum's life, Robert spent most of his time out of the house. He couldn't stand the pathetic woman Mum had become, dependent on alcohol from morning till night, so he went to school and to work, no longer expecting Dad to swoop in and save them. He also went to the neighbourhood pool and swam until he could barely stand it, till he gasped for breath and his lungs ached for air.

The last few months of Mum's life also cost Robert his faith in God and salvation. He prayed every morning and every night, but Mum kept drinking and Dad never picked up the phone. Robert threw himself into school so that he could get away. His teachers loved him and offered letters of recommendation; the year Mum died, Robert graduated at the top of his class. In the same week he buried his mother and got Dad's call of congratulations.

The night of graduation, four nights after Mum died, Robert finished off the alcohol in the house. It was the first and last time he ever got shit-faced.

The last few months of Dad's life, Robert didn't know Dad was dying. The night after he learned Dad had died, he went running. He'd have preferred swimming, but he got off work too late.

When Dr. House fired him, Dr. Cuddy offered him a position with slightly more pay and the choice to make his own hours. It'd been almost fifteen years since Mum died. He was a world away from her grave. He'd forgotten what her voice sounded like. He couldn't remember her favorite color or her favorite song.

After his first night in intensive care, after he'd saved five people and called time of death for three more, he drank a gin and tonic for Mum and then went to bed.


	6. The strongest among you

**Title**: The strongest among you may not wear a crown

**Fandom**: "House MD"/"Supernatural" crossover

**Disclaimer**: not my characters; just for fun. Title from 3 Doors Down

**Warnings**: season one spoilers for "Supernatural"; takes place sometime mid-season two for "House"

**Pairings**: none

**Rating**: PG

**Wordcount**: 1630

**Point** **of** **view**: third

* * *

Robert first notices the ability after a blinding headache lasts three days. He moves past shock, denial, and acceptance to realize he can only heal superficial wounds and it doesn't take much to wear himself out. He also can't heal himself.

Once he'd gotten over the awe at having any ability at all, he's angry that it isn't a better one. What's the point of healing a paper-cut if you can't fix a dying heart?

o0o

It's three weeks after the ability first manifests when Robert has the dream.

He is back home, in the old house, watching Mum watch one of her soaps. She's got a can in one hand and a sandwich in the other, and she takes a bite, washing it down with a gulp.

"Robbie!" she suddenly yells. "Bring me chips!"

"In a moment, Mum!" he hears himself yell back.

Another voice says, "Sucked, didn't it, Rob." He turns and there's a man standing by the window. "Always taking care of your dear mommy. No help from anyone." The man tsks, shaking his head. "Lots of responsibility for a youngster."

Robert backs away, unsure. "Who are you?"

The man grins. "I could be your best friend, boyo," he purrs. His eyes flash golden as he adds, "Or your worst nightmare."

He steps forward and Robert backs into the wall. "Listen to me, Robert Chase," the man says. "You can heal anyone except yourself—you can heal any wound, any hurt, but there is a price." He smirks. "And I think you'll pay it, smiling all the way."

Robert wakes up trembling.

o0o

He's working in the ER when a busload of injured are brought in. Too many of them are children, and he works for hours trying to figure out what's wrong and what needs to be done. Robert comes across a little boy, no more than four, body broken in too many places. He won't survive the next ten minutes.

_You can heal any wound, any hurt, _the man from his dream says. But he's never been able to fix anything worse than a bruise, and the boy is _dying_.

But he has to try. He'll never forgive himself if he doesn't at least try. So he looks around for any witness, but everyone's busy dealing with other patients. This little boy was written off as a lost cause. Robert is the only hope left to him.

He places his hands on the boy, on his chest and his forehead, and delves deep into himself. He sends the power into the boy, trying to heal his insides first—superficial healing will mean nothing if he keeps bleeding internally. The organs re-knit, and the muscles, and Robert keeps sending the power. He's panting by the time the kid's heart beats on its own, and he collapses when the ribs realign. The kid will be fine if he gets immediate attention, so Robert yells, "Here!" and then lets himself black out.

o0o

Robert wakes in a hospital bed three days later. One of the nurses pages House; Cameron and Foreman come with him. The first question Robert asks, as House limps in, is "The kid?"

House just stares at him, but Cameron says, "He'll be fine."

Robert breathes a sigh of relief and closes his eyes, still exhausted.

"Don't even think about going back to sleep," House tells him, limping closer.

"Sorry," Robert whispers, unable to stay awake.

o0o

The yellow-eyed man is in his dream again, this time Mum's funeral. He sits next to Robert and says, "You did good, kiddo. That boy'll live a nice long life 'cause of you."

"Who are you?" Robert asks, watching his younger self sob silently.

"Like I told you, Rob," the man murmurs, leaning close, "your best friend. Or worst nightmare. Entirely up to you."

The man pats his back and adds, "It'll get easier with practice and time. One day, you might even be able to raise the dead. That'll be cool, right?"

Robert shivers. "I'm not a god," he says. "Only God can do that."

The man chuckles. "That's where you're wrong, kiddo." He leans even further in, putting his mouth right by Robert's ear. "You're not a god _yet_."

o0o

Robert wakes again only hours later, feeling better than he has since his power first manifested.

"That boy was dead," House says from the bedside chair. His blue eyes pin Robert in place. "He was dead when they brought him in." House stands, hands tight on his cane. "That is interesting, don't you think?"

Robert shivers, unable to meet House's gaze. "That must have been an incorrect diagnosis," he offers, voice shaky.

House scoffs. "Call this woman," he says, holding out a post-it note. "She'll be able to help you, and teach you how not to give yourself away."

Robert reaches up, taking the slip of paper. "You… you know?" he asks in a whisper.

House smiles, the first gentle expression Robert has ever seen on his face. Especially after all the times Robert has royally screwed up. "You're not alone, Dr. Chase," House tells him. "Don't think you are."

He turns and leaves, saying over his shoulder, "You get a week off. Don't waste it."

Robert looks down at the piece of paper. Written on it in House's too-neat-for-a-doctor handwriting are a phone number and the name Missouri Moseley.

o0o

Robert doesn't ring Miss Moseley until he's home from the hospital, ensconced on his couch wrapped in one of Mum's old quilts. He's already had three mugs of hot cocoa and tried dialing the number three times.

_You're not a god yet, _the yellow-eyed man says. _I could be your best friend, or your worst nightmare. _

_There will be a price. _

House has been an arsehole and a prick, but he's always right in the end.

"Been waitin' for you to work up the courage," Miss Moseley says on the other end of the line. "You come on down here, boy, and we'll get everything sorted out."

Robert agrees to go.

o0o

Miss Moseley in person is exactly as she was on the phone.

"Well, come on in," she says, bustling to the kitchen. "I put on a kettle, enough water for two. Cocoa?"

He follows in bemusement. "That would be fine," he replies. "Miss, who are you, exactly?"

She laughs. "I'm a psychic," she answers. "Didn't Greg tell you that?"

Robert raises an eyebrow. "Really?"

Miss Moseley raises an eyebrow right back. "You can heal people and you're doubtin' me?"

He shrugs. "I could heal people before."

She scoffs. "Not like this."

He looks down, studies her hardwood floor. "There's been a man in my dreams," Robert confesses. "He told me that I could be a god. Could raise the dead."

Miss Moseley walks over and looks him straight in the eye. "You already have." She leads the way to the den, carrying a tray with two mugs and a plate of chocolate chip cookies, and nods to the couch. He sinks onto it in a daze. House said the boy was dead, but Robert had _felt_ his life. There'd still been something in his body to save.

"You gotta be careful, boy," she tells him, handing him a cup of hot cocoa. "The things that heal can also hurt." She settles into a chair across from him.

"What?" he asks, sitting up straight.

She smiles, a bit sadly. "The very same thing that lets you fix bodies, Dr. Chase," she says, "can also destroy them. Rewire them. Stop the blood, dry up the water, send the electricity our systems need away."

"No, I can't do that," he denies. "I don't want to do that."

Miss Mosley pats his leg. "I know," she says. "But not _wantin'_ to and not bein' _able_ to are very different things."

Robert sips his cocoa in silence, thinking about the past few months. The yellow-eyed man.

"How d'you know House?" he asks, settling on that one thing to anchor himself in the storm.

She grins, settling back against the chair. "He lived down the street for a while, years and years ago," she says. "I've always had my gift and he found me fascinatin'." She shrugs.

He sets down the mug. "The yellow-eyed man," he starts, "from my dreams. Is he bad?"

Miss Moseley nods. "Not the worst, but close. You need to be careful, boy. He's twisted, lyin' like we breathe."

Robert slumps down, drumming his fingers on his thigh. The knowledge isn't really a surprise, but he still finds he's disappointed.

They sit in silence for a few moment, Miss Mosely sipping her cocoa. When Miss Mosely speaks, Robert startles.

"You know that your mother's death wasn't your fault?"

Robert looks away. Of course it was. He should have taken better care of her.

Miss Moseley sighs and mutters, "What is it with the pretty ones, always takin' too much blame onto themselves? Honestly." Robert looks at her, wondering what she means, but she just waves a hand. "Don't worry about that. We should get started on how to keep yourself from burnin' out, boy."

He nods, setting aside his mug. "What do I do?"

She holds out a hand and he places his palm on hers. "Just breathe," she says. "Let me in. We need to start building some walls in your mind."

Robert closes his eyes and inhales deeply, giving her permission as he lets the breath out.

"Don't be afraid," Miss Moseley tells him. "Trust me. You can do a great good for the world."

_There will be a price, _the yellow-eyed man said.

That boy will live because Robert healed him. "I'm not afraid," he says softly, looking into Miss Moseley's eyes. "I want to… I need to learn control."

She smiles, squeezing his hand. "Then let's start, baby."


End file.
